


Bad Ideas and Kitchen Sex

by KittyAug, KittyAugust (KittyAug)



Series: Of Hunters and Hellblazers [19]
Category: Constantine (TV), Hellblazer & Related Fandoms, Supernatural
Genre: Constandean, Crossover, Crossover Pairings, Kitchen Sex, M/M, Men of Letters Bunker
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-16
Updated: 2014-12-16
Packaged: 2018-03-01 18:15:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,947
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2782823
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KittyAug/pseuds/KittyAug, https://archiveofourown.org/users/KittyAug/pseuds/KittyAugust
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean didn’t know what the hell he was doing.</p><p>Okay. No. That was a lie. He knew exactly what he was doing. He was making out with John Constantine. It was probably a bad idea...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bad Ideas and Kitchen Sex

Dean didn’t know what the hell he was doing.

Okay. No. That was a lie. He knew exactly what he was doing. He was making out with John Constantine. And he even knew it was a bad idea. But it felt awesome.

They were up against the kitchen wall. Diving and driving into each other like a couple of overeager teenagers. And they were in the kitchen of the Men of Letters’ Bunker. Where anyone (e.g. Sam or Cas or Chas) could walk in at any fucking moment. Make that a _really_ bad idea. A really awesome bad idea.

Maybe it was the Mark of Cain? Driving his baser instincts against his better judgment. Pushing him out into deep dangerous waters. And leaving him adrift on his own lusts and desires.

Constantine bit into Dean’s lower lip and slid his leg between the hunter’s thighs. Arched his back and pushed in impossibly closer. Gave Dean a moment to breathe while his lips set off on a trail down Dean’s jaw. Dean let his head fall back against the smooth tile behind him, breathing hard. Then the other man licked a long stripe from his collarbone up to the crook of his jaw making Dean shiver.

Nope. Not the Mark then. Just John friggin’ Constantine. With his cock sure confidence, full body laugh and feral grace. And his constant sensual antagonism.

Thinking of whom, he was on the move again with torturous little bites along Dean’s jawline. Hands rucked up under Dean’s shirt - softer than most hunters but rougher than a girl’s. Fresh heat blossomed under Dean's skin wherever Constantine touched him.

Dean growled surging forward to bring their lips back together. Then he grasped the exorcist’s trench coat with both hands and used his superior strength to spin their positions. Now _he_ had Constantine trapped against the wall. Why did the guy even still have the coat on? They had been inside for hours. It wasn’t like he was a stupid angel with no sense of temperature variance. Dean got distracted from that thought by the other man rocking up hard against him. Then sliding a hand into his hair and pulling just this side of too hard. Even with his back against the wall the Hellblazer still managed to have all the control. Over everything except himself anyway. Not like that’s anything new.

Constantine bit into the soft flesh of Dean’s earlobe tugging softly with his teeth in just the right way. Stubble rough against the hunter’s throat. Each graze against his skin was a tempting promise. Dean heard himself make an embarrassing whimper. But he couldn’t help it, every shift and thrust of movement was agonisingly good.

They were kissing again. Fighting for dominance that Dean knew he would give up in the end. But maybe that was all part of the game.

Dean’s hands seemed to have decided to get the show moving while his brain shorted out. He tugged the exorcist’s shirt loose pushing one hand up against hot skin while the other roved downward. Gripping into the flesh of Constantine’s ass and pulling them flush against each other. Dean groaned when it brought blessed friction. Then he smirked and pressed in harder when he felt that the Hellblazer was just as desperately hard as he was.

Fuck. If they kept this up much longer he was actually going to come in his jeans just like the horny teens he had compared them to. And fuck, Constantine seemed to have read his mind like the black magician he was. He was undoing Dean’s jeans one handed while the other managed to stay in his hair and caressing the back of the hunter’s neck. Damn this guy knew him too fucking well.

They were exactly the same height so when Dean pulled back half an inch their eyes met. And of course that constant challenge was still in Constantine’s gaze but he whispered, “This alright?”

And his breath was hot and rough against Dean’s face. He could smell bitter clove smoke, and whiskey, and body heat with each panting breath. And, no. Actually. It shouldn’t be alright. He should pull back. At the very least he should try and surreptitiously move them down the hall to his room.

But apparently Dean was done thinking about what he should be doing for tonight. Because he was saying, “yeah,” instead of fuck no. And he was pressing back in to kiss away any further questions.

And then all objections were forgotten when the Hellblazer’s hand was on his dick. Part of Dean exalted in that fact alone. The part that had been an eager 20 something listening to awe struck hunter gossip. And that was part of his problem. It was always more than physical with Constantine. More than visceral pleasure and skin on skin relief.

For a moment Dean wondered if that hunter chick he’d hooked up with a year or so ago had felt that way about him. And that was a mind fuck. He couldn’t even remember her name. Then Constantine shifted his wrist and Dean lost that train of thought too. It derailed and crashed into a wave of hot friction and aching tension. Damn that felt good. But he knew what would feel better.

Dean was holding himself up with one arm over John’s shoulder but managed to get the other one on Constantine’s belt. He fumbled it a bit because oh god that felt good. Really fucking good. But then he had the buckle undone and was pulling the other man’s belt free and dropping it to the kitchen floor.

They were still kissing frantically when Dean finally managed to get the exorcist’s zipper loose and shove Constantine's annoying trousers out of the way.

It was then that Constantine finally seemed to lose some control. He pulled back from the kiss to gasp as Dean’s hand finally found its target. He tugged them together and buried his face in Constantine’s neck. Biting kisses into the dark magician’s throat as he took over working them both together.

They were barely even sweat slick but by this point neither seemed to care. Dean didn’t usually admit it but he knew they were both just fucked up enough to need a fair amount of pain with their pleasures anyway. And, of course, John was an uncut English punk. And fuck did that velvet skin felt fucking amazing against his own. Somewhere in the back of his mind Dean was aware that they were still in the fucking kitchen. Fucking in the kitchen to be exact. He started to laugh but then. Oh. Fuck. Yes.

Dean was pretty sure he said that last out loud. But he was _so_ very past caring. He bit down into the Constantine’s shoulder. Which earned him a sinfully erotic sound from the exorcist.

And with that reaction the toe curling tension throughout Dean’s body finally reached its peak. He came hard. Spilling hot and slippery over them both. Leaning his weight against the wall and shuddering through the aftershocks. Constantine was kissing him again but this time it was languid and slow. Dragging every last second of blissful calm to the surface. Before finally releasing his mouth and leaning back against the wall behind them. Allowing Dean to drag air back into his lungs.

Dean glanced down to see that the Hellblazer was still casually jacking himself off. And using Dean’s cum to smooth the way. And fuck if that wasn’t one of the hottest things he’d seen in a very long time. Unfortunately for Dean’s self-control it also gave him and even better idea.

He caught Constantine’s eye and smiled. Slow and evil. He brought his hand to his lips and licked his own cum from his fingers. Without dropping eye contact. In his post-orgasm haze the smirk on Constantine’s face was actually pretty gratifying.

Then he pressed in close again and dropped to his knees in one smooth motion.

“Oh, fuck me,” Constantine whispered.

“Mmm? Maybe later.” And before the exorcist could respond Dean moved forward to lick a long stripe up his cock. He didn’t particularly like the taste of his own cum. But he liked the reactions it got. And combined with the sweat, musk, and smoke taste of John Constantine’s flesh it was pretty damn good.

He hadn’t done this in months. And hadn’t done it _human_ in years. Demons don’t have to breathe. But the basic principle was still the same.

He propped himself against the wall with one hand and dug the other into Constantine’s hip. Then, keeping green eyes locked with copper gold, he slowly took the Hellblazer’s cock into his mouth. Pushed past his gag reflex to swallow it whole. And pressed his tongue up around a throat full of cock. But otherwise he stayed still.

“Damn you, Winchester.”

Dean gave a half shrug and raised an eyebrow. Been there, done that. They both had. But he couldn’t say that right now so he just hummed instead. He still didn’t move, though.

He waited. He waited until John was biting his lip and desperately fighting the urge to just buck forward. Only then did he finally start to move. But now he _was_ moving he suckled down hard and fast. Earning whimpering breathy mumbling from the man above him. Which, yeah, that was pretty awesome.

Constantine’s hands were both flat against the wall and gripping hard. Dean stopped again and glared pointedly at one of them. Constantine gave a short breathy laugh. “Yes sir,” he said. Still mocking even in the heat of the moment. He buried one of the erstwhile hands into Dean’s hair and pulled gently forward.

The hunter hummed appreciatively pushing onward. And followed the increased encouragement with increased enthusiasm.

He gave it a few minutes before moving his own hand from Constantine’s hip to slowly drag a finger across the other man’s balls. They were tense. He was close. So close. So close that Dean slid the finger between his thighs seeking out the Englishman’s puckered heat. And that was all it took. Pushing the Hellblazer over the edge. He came with a guttural noise that sounded suspiciously close to “Winchester.”

Dean pulled himself back up Constantine’s body for a deep leisurely kiss. Trying to decide how long it would be before he was ready for round two. Preferably in a bed. He was nibbling up Constantine’s throat when reality finally caught up with him.

“Hullo Thursday,” Constantine said in an admirably conversational tone of voice. “‘Fraid you just missed the party, mate… there's always next time.” And Dean could _hear_ the leering wink that accompanied the statement.

“Fuck,” Dean closed his eyes and dropped his head to the cold tile wall with a loud ‘thunk’.

“Dean?” Castiel’s voice rumbled from the doorway. Mildly surprised. Vaguely curious. And totally confused. Son of a bitch.

Dean just _knew_ Cas was gonna ask questions. Lots of questions. And he wouldn’t even mean to make Dean want to sell his soul again just to get away. He wouldn’t mean to. And that would just make Dean feel like even more of an asshole for getting grumpy. And yelling. Dean would probably yell. He was just that much of a jerk, apparently.

Cas wouldn’t even understand why explaining gay sex to an angel might be uncomfortable.

And Dean _really_ didn’t want to explain gay sex to that particular angel. He was probably already going back to Hell for dreaming about _showing_ him so many times. Damn it. Dean Winchester was so fucked. And not even literally!

Fucking. John. Fucking. Constantine.

Dean sighed. That was such a bad idea.

**Author's Note:**

> I have created a [tumblr](http://kittyaugust.tumblr.com/) \- not sure how it works yet though - <http://kittyaugust.tumblr.com/>


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